Case 1: 14 Angel Street
by The Never Scribe
Summary: When Alfred moved to England and asked his brother for help finding a job, the last thing he expected was to have to run around the streets of London trying to catch murderers that may or may not be ghosts with a genius detective who drank whiskey in his tea by his side making rude comments. But hey, that's life.


**DISCLAIMER: Yes, this is based loosely on Sherlock, which belongs to the BBC, not me, and was based off the original novels written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, not me. The characters I'm using are from Hetalia, which was written by Hidekaz Himaruya. All credits and rights go to these people. However, I am not going to mark it as a Sherlock crossover, because these characters are eventually going to be quite different to the originals, and as I said, it's only loosely based off Sherlock.**

 **Another thing - this isn't UsUK. While I'm cool with the ship, I still don't ship it. There won't be a main romance in this fanfic, as it's going to be more plot oriented, but you'll definitely see some side ships ;)**

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"I don't know, man, I need a job," sighed Alfred, placing his empty mug down. "And a roommate." He looked over at the man across from him with a raised eyebrow. "Any suggestions? Seriously, I'm desperate."

"Well," his twin suggested, "our forensic scientist, Michelle, is on leave right now, and technically, you have the necessary qualifications. I could get you a-"

"Ew!" Alfred shuddered. "Hell no, Mattie, I don't want to work with your dead bodies all day! I want a good job, y'know. Can't you set me up at a hospital or something?"

"Al, you don't have any experience," Matthew repeated patiently for what seemed like the billionth time, paying no heed to the insult to his job. "I can't get you a 'good' job." And then, an idea dawned. "However, I might be able to help with that roommate thing."

Alfred instantly perked up, smiling eagerly. "Really? Who?"

"Uh, well, I'm not sure what you'll think of him," Matthew told him, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "He recently got evicted from his old-"

"Evicted?" Alfred repeated, half startled and half intrigued. "Why?"

"I'm not sure I want to-"

"Tell me!"

"Stop interrupting me!" snapped Matthew.

Alfred smiled sheepishly, feeling slightly guilty. "Sorry, Mattie. Go on."

His brother seemed satisfied with that, if a little irritated. He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in conspiratorially. "Well, I can't technically say this, because we work with him occasionally, and if anyone asks, I didn't know a thing about it, but… he likes his whiskey a little too much, and rumour is he likes to sample some, um, substance, every now and again."

Alfred pulled back and stared at his brother in disbelief. "You're telling me to live with a stoner? Jesus, Mattie!"

"He's a really good guy, honest!" replied Matthew defensively, swallowing another sip of beer. "He's done half our work for us, actually. We owe him a lot. Which is why I don't plan on busting him any time soon."

Alfred raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Your work? You got transferred to London for a reason, bro, and from what I've heard, getting into your task force at your age is impossible, let alone leading it. I seriously doubt this guy can do any better."

Matthew shook his head, slightly ashamed. "There are… a lot of cases that we can't solve. But Arthur's a genius. The others say he's insane, but I don't think so." Alfred noticed the awe in his voice and tried to hide his amazement. It took a lot to impress Matthew. He knew that from experience.

 _Being able to fit four cheeseburgers in your mouth is impressive! Mattie's just boring. Bet this guy is too. Ugh, he probably plays hockey or something. Or works at an all-day breakfast bar. Huh. A stoner who works at a breakfast bar… that could work out. But how does Mattie work with him occasionally? Maybe he got a part-time job as well… nah, a breakfast bar would never hire him, he'd eat everything. Mmm… breakfast… I'm hungry…_

"-fred! Alfred, are you listening to me?"

Alfred looked up at Matthew blankly. "What?"

His twin sighed in exasperation. "Honestly, Al, you really need to stop doing this. It's kinda rude, you know. Anyway, as I was saying, his name is Arthur Kirkland, and he's a private detective who works with us on occasion. Whenever there's a particularly weird case."

Alfred looked at Matthew suspiciously. "Weird how?"

Matthew winced a little. "He likes anything that seems like an impossible crime. Especially murders and supernatural stuff. I came to him once with this serial killer who took every victim's-"

"Whoa!" interrupted Alfred, holding up his hands and closing his eyes with a grimace. "Dude. Please. I'm a paediatrician, not a surgeon, and I really don't want to hear about internal organs being anywhere other than inside a body right before I order a burger."

"You've already had _two_ burgers!"

"Hey, you said tonight was on you."

"I know, and I regret it. Deeply."

Alfred shrugged, grinning, beckoning a waitress. "Should've learned, Matt. Should've learned. Seriously, you've know me literally since we were born. You should know by now."

Matthew sighed, sipping his own beer. "Get me some fries, freeloader."

Alfred did. After ordering, Alfred got back to the point of their discussion. "Well, yeah, okay. I can probably work a few more shifts at Mickey D's, and maybe I can get another part time job, just to keep me going for now."

There was silence for a moment. "Al, I know you'll find something – of course you will, things always work out for you – but until then, if you ever need anything, all you need to do is ask, okay?"

Alfred flashed Matthew a confident grin. "Nah, I'll be fine. So I'll tell you what; you give me this Kirkland guy's number and we'll try to organise something, and now, let's focus on something that's even emptier than my bank account."

"Wh-"

"Your love life, dude! I can't remember the last time you went on a date! Seriously, is there no guy in London good enough for you? Or are you pining after someone, is that it?"

"Al, seriously?"

"Yeah! I mean, come on, it's just sad. You have my good looks, why are you still single? You should get on Grindr or Tinder-"

"I'm not going to get on Grindr! Or Tinder. Tinder is for sad, lonely people, and I'm happy! I'm not looking for a boyfriend."

"What's wrong with Grindr?"

"Grindr is for hookups, and I don't want to see a dick until I'm dating the person who owns it."

"Ew. TMI, bro. Still, you should get on _something._ Or let me set you up with someone!"

"No."

"Ugh, you're so boring."

"Watch what you say; I'm paying for your burgers."

"I take that back."

.

"Kirkland speaking. Before you begin, I only accept cases presented to me in person. I am currently located at the dumpster behind the One More Pint Tavern. Take it or leave it."

"Uh… hi?"

"Good evening. Senior Special Agent Williams' brother?"

"What? How did you-"

"Doesn't matter. Meet me at your brother's headquarters tomorrow at three."

A beep.

Alfred stared the phone in his hand, trying to comprehend what exactly had just happened. _Well, he was rude. Whatever. If he's got the money, that's all I need. Still, a dumpster behind a tavern… I'm starting to have second thoughts._

.

Alfred arrived the next day dressed more formally than usual; slacks and a button up, his favourite beat up bomber jacket over the outfit. He rang the bell on the side of the tall gate that secured the RSO Task Force headquarters. A blue light came to life – Alfred was on camera. "Special Agent Beilschmidt spea- wait, what?" came an accented voice from inside. "Birdie? I thought you came back from lunch already."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Uh, my name is Alfred. My brother Matthew works here?"

"Oh, right. Hey, Birdie!" Alfred winced as the voice raised its volume to a yell. "Your brother's here, should I let him in?"

A distant, "Wait, what?"

A scuffling as Matthew approached the microphone. "Al? What are you doing here?"

"Hell if I know. That Kirkland guy told me to meet him here."

"Arthur? Yeah, he's in here. Hang on, I'll be down in a second."

A minute or so later, a harried Matthew scurried out of the building, hastily pulling on a coat. He pressed his finger to a small pad. It beeped, and a robotic voice read out. "Senior Special Agent Jones-Williams, please state the reason for your departure."

"Coffee run," he told it.

"Voice recognition complete." The gate swung open.

Alfred grinned. "That's so cool! You guys are like something out of those cop shows! Why do you need so much security, anyway?"

Matthew smiled at the attention, winking mischievously. "Classified." He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like a hospital."

"I just had a job interview," Alfred told him. "I don't think it went well. Some grumpy old lady, you know the type. I've got another one tomorrow, though, so better luck then."

Matthew sighed. "Oh, Al. Maybe next time you should wear a tie? And skip the bomber jacket?"

"And look like middle-aged paper-pusher? Ew."

His twin shrugged. "Your debt. Anyway, you go on in, Arthur's in the morgue-"

"The _morgue_?!" Alfred repeated in horror. "Why?! And wait, are you leaving?"

His twin shrugged. "Not sure. He said something about testing for… I can't even pronounce it, some kind of poison or other. Also yes, I'm leaving. I'm actually supposed to go on a coffee run, we've all been in here overnight. Anyways, I'll be back soon. Gilbert will let you in, and please, for the love of God, don't touch anything."

Alfred nodded, rolling his eyes. "Wow, I'm glad you have so much faith in me."

"I'm serious, Alfred," Matthew warned. "I'm working four different cases right now, and if something goes wrong, I'm dead. Maybe literally. So please, please don't touch anything."

"Ugh, fine. You're so mean."

"No I'm- oh, whatever, just go already. And make sure not to open the gate on your own! Always get someone to get past the security, alright?"

Alfred held up his hands in surrender, trotting inside the gate and waving goodbye to Matthew. He turned around just in time to come face to face with a guy whose appearance Alfred could only describe as freaky.

His hair was silver, almost white, but he looked like he was in his twenties. His skin was paler than Mattie's, which was in itself a supernatural occurrence in Alfred's book. Weird… And the creepiest thing; his eyes. They were a piercing red, about the same colour of that one white bunny Alfred's second grade class had as a class pet – the one he had been too afraid to touch, let alone take care of.

To make things even worse, he was wearing a manic grin. "You're Mattie's twin, huh? He's cuter. Come on in." Alfred, for once, didn't have a chance to get a word in before he was ushered into the building. "Heard you wanted to see the freak. He's with the body, through that door." Alfred glanced towards the direction he was pointing. "Yeah, there. Go on, and get out quickly. Serious badassery going on in here, and all these strangers are putting off my awesomeness, and thus, disrupting it."

Once again, Alfred glared at the man and opened his mouth to retort, but he was pushed towards the door. _What the fuck?! That guy was an asshole_ , he thought to himself, angrily pushing the door open and stomping inside.

"Beilschmidt, what have I told you about- oh. Good afternoon."

The man standing over the body was tall – smaller than Alfred, of course, but then again, almost everyone was – and dressed impeccably, or, in Alfred's opinion, stuffily. Beige slacks, crisp white shirt and hideous green argyle sweater vest. He looked as if he belonged in a library, not a mortuary. Contrary to his outfit, the man was actually rather young – perhaps a few years older than Alfred and Matthew.

"Um, hi?" Alfred said, trying to ignore the body on the table – which was hard, considering it was much more interesting than 'Arthur Kirkland' – and keep eye contact with the man.

"Do you ever greet people with something else?" he queried dryly. _Wow. He's the first person I've met in this place with an actual British accent. He sounds like the Queen. Kinda looks like her too. Except he's rude._

Alfred snapped back to reality, grinning at the man. He'll share the rent, be nice. "Usually, but I've, uh, heard a lot about you and I didn't really know what to say. Not to mention _that_ ," he added, pointing at the mangled corpse stretched out on a table.

Arthur waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing interesting. Young woman from Manchester turned cannibal; this is her ex-girlfriend. I just need to find out what her name is and she'll be in jail by tomorrow."

"Cannibalism?" Alfred repeated incredulously, feeling slightly sick. "What the fuck, man? Is this the normal kind of case Mattie works on?"

He shrugged. "No. This is one of the more boring ones. I swear, this task force is helpless. Why they're even around anymore is beyond me."

"Hey! Listen pal, my bro-"

"-is perhaps the most competent out of them all," Arthur finished. "Still, that doesn't mean he's any good."

"At least he isn't 'located at the dumpster behind the One More Pint Tavern'," Alfred retorted.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Cheap, Jones. Cheap. In any case, you fit the bill, and we'll both foot it. A doctor should do nicely, although if you bring a single hamburger into my flat, you're out, understood?"

"Wait, wh- how did you know I liked burgers?"

The detective wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Your jacket."

"Excuse m-"

"Excellent. I'll see you at address 14 Angel Street tomorrow, eight o' clock. In the evening, of course. It's a lovely place, close enough to the centre of London and to these 'headquarters', as they like to call it. Glorified police station, if you ask me. Now, out. I need to focus."

Alfred stood there dumbly for a second, staring at the, from what he had gathered, crazy man in amazement. _What the fuck just happened?_

Arthur continued ignoring him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he poked and prodded at the corpse with what appeared to be a chopstick. Instead of questioning it, Alfred merely uttered a, "Well, see ya!" and hurried out of the morgue. He couldn't leave fast enough.

The albino guy cackled loudly from behind a computer at Alfred's expression of pure confusion. "Meet Arthur Kirkland, resident creepy, psychopathic asshole!"

"Gil!" reprimanded another voice, a female one. A tall, muscular and _very_ attractive woman appeared from behind a high-tech looking screen. "Don't be crass. He's not that bad. Sure, he's a total weirdo, but he's helped us a lot."

'Gil' snorted in derision. "He's crazy. You ever listened through the door when he's in there? He talks to himself, and to the body, and to a bunch of weird fantasy sounding names that don't even exist!"

 _I'm liking this idea less and less…_

The woman rolled her eyes and turned to Alfred. "Don't worry, dearie, he's not as bad as Beilschmidt says he is. Still, I don't know why it is you're seeing him, but try not to get too close, alright? Weird shit follows him, and you look too nice to get involved in that kind of stuff."

Alfred nodded slowly, internally feeling rather annoyed. He hated it when people talked behind other people's backs. It was sneaky and… and _wrong_! "Yeah, whatever. I, uh, I should go. Really, really should go. Bye!" He hurried out of the headquarters, eager to leave the corpse, the freaky albino guy and the 'psychopathic asshole' who was apparently also a stoner who hallucinated and talked to himself. _I should really start wearing a tie to my interviews._

He was so absorbed in getting out that he didn't hear Gilbert's shout of, "Wait! You need someone to let you out!" and unwittingly tried to force the door open. Immediately, a series of whooping alarms rang out and the doors clamped shut. A P.A. began blaring the words, _'Lockdown. Unwarranted Exit.'_ over and over again.

Alfred's eyes widened in terror at the chaos. _Mattie is going to kill me._

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 **Hey guys!**

 **Thank you so much for reading, and once again I'm super sorry about the hiatus on my other fic. I've been working on this for a while, and I don't quite have a clear plan for the plot yet, so bear with me because the chapters will take a while. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **Please feel free to leave a review, as I love reading them. Constructive criticism is much appreciated, but please make sure to tell me exactly what it was you found a problem with so that I can fix it (in other words, no mindless hate messages please!).**

 **Thanks again!**

 **\- Cass**


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